


again and together

by kornevable



Series: thread of our lives - sylvix week 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Blood, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/pseuds/kornevable
Summary: He figures that there’s no need to be clean aboutkilling, so he grips his knife tighter in his left hand, pushes his right arm onto the man’s torso, and spills rivers of blood as he stabs him.Felix and Sylvain finish a mission; they have always worked well together. /Day 3 of Sylvix week: injuries/protection
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: thread of our lives - sylvix week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933267
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	again and together

**Author's Note:**

> This fits very loosely the prompts haha But Felix and Sylvain always have each other's back :')

There’s a fucking gash on his dominant arm that’s still bleeding and it hurts like a bitch, forcing him to switch to his left hand and executing sloppy moves that are not as fast or strong as he’d like. Felix’s dexterity with knives is unmatched and his attacks are always deadly, even when his brain is trying not to focus on the pain or pass out from blood loss. It’s unclear whether he manages to squash down the panic he’s feeling, because all he’s thinking about is slashing, dodging, thrusting forward, and tackling. He ends up charging into his opponent and they both tumble on the floor; Felix struggles to keep the man down with his legs while getting out of the weapon’s range. He figures that there’s no need to be clean about _killing_ , so he grips his knife tighter in his left hand, pushes his right arm onto the man’s torso, and spills rivers of blood as he stabs him in the throat, once, twice, then leaves him for dead when the gurgling stops.

His ears are buzzing with adrenaline and his heart is already beating too loudly in his ribcage. It doesn’t get better when he stands up and the room spins, just a little, and he curses under his breath when he sees that his entire shirt is ruined with questionable fluids and remains of something. It’s disgusting.

Felix lets out a sigh and taps his mouthpiece.

“Can we fucking finish this already?”

“Depends on what’s left in this mansion, how is it looking on your side?”

Felix tears off a long strip of fabric from the corpse’s jacket, and wraps it tightly around his arm. It won’t stop the bleeding, but at least he’s not repainting the whole goddamn floor with his blood.

“It’s clear, obviously. What’s your situation?”

There’s a chuckle, deep and rich, but it’s also laced with hysteria. He hears panting and frantic footsteps.

“Might need a little help, actually. Uh, coming through on your right?”

Felix whips his head to the side and sees their target barging into the room, eyes wild and desperate, searching for something or someone that will help him. Too late for that. Felix jumps on his feet and pulls out his gun from his waist, despite his injury that is setting his entire arm on fire, and doesn’t hesitate before shooting. He’s swifter and more nimble with a sharp blade, but his aim with a gun is nothing less than skillful. The bullet lands on the target’s foot and makes him trip. His face meets the blood-covered carpet of the floor and he howls in agony, scrambling to get back up like a cockroach on its back, but the useless flapping of his arms only slow him down in his pathetic attempt at escaping.

Sylvain arrives a second later, frowning and not pleased, but he wastes no time; he aims his gun at the wriggling figure on the floor, pulls the trigger and puts a bullet into the man’s head. Felix doesn’t hide his grimace when _things_ splatter while the blood pools underneath the head. He’s not one to be repulsed by the results of their handiwork, but it’s still nasty. He glances at Sylvain’s tense figure, and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You had trouble killing this buffoon?” he scoffs. “You can do better.”

Sylvain rubs a hand on his neck, still on guard, but the smile stretching his lips feels a bit more easygoing.

“Hey, I also have my off days,” he says. “But thanks. The task is done faster when we’re working together, right?”

Sylvain grins like the fool he is, knowing full well he’ll only get an eyeroll for his attempt at lightening up the mood.

“I don’t lose focus, unlike you,” Felix mutters. “Let’s go, the smell is getting awful.”

Dimitri should be fucking grateful for what they’re doing for him.

Now that their objective is fulfilled, the adrenaline is beginning to fade, to leave in its stead a calm tiredness. It’s a job well done and Felix can’t wait to get rid of all the filth covering his clothes and his face.

Sylvain keeps his gun in hand as they head downstairs, and slings an arm around Felix’s shoulders, and grips it tightly. Felix lets him, even relaxing under his familiar and warm touch. The mansion is eerily quiet in the wake of their thorough clean up, haunted by its own ghosts that were too weak to get out of here alive. They stride over various obstacles on their way, in the form of mutilated bodies, discarded weapons or empty cartridges. This paints a more gruesome picture than Felix thought it would make, given that most of these guys were killed in a single blow. He supposes that the quantity of blood that was shed never quite reflects the accurate fierceness, or lack thereof, of a battle.

“Your’s arm alright?” Sylvain asks, his gaze dropping on the injury.

Felix shrugs. “I’ve had worse. We still have supplies in the car, right?”

“Yeah, Dimitri made me check them twice before leaving.”

Felix snorts. Unbelievable.

“If he has time to nag then he has time to organize his office,” he groans.

“Aw, did you trip over his files again?”

“No, but Ingrid asked him every day to do something about his mess for the past week. It’s getting annoying to hear the same complaint all the time.”

Sylvain snickers, shaking his head like he isn’t also part of the problem—he refuses to step into the boss’s office because he won’t lay eyes on what is, quote, a monstrous cluster of hazardous shit. If Sylvain truly wanted he’d be able to keep the office spotless and organized every day.

Then, Felix hears the faintest noise of metal, and he shoves Sylvain aside as fast as he can to draw his knife to block another dagger directed at his chest. He pushes back with all his strength, snarling, but his opponent seems to be in better health than he expected since she barely budges. She’s reaching for another one of her daggers, and there’s no way Felix will let her do as she pleases.

He extends his leg for a sweeping kick, making her lose her balance, and he uses the opportunity to bury his knife deep into her heart. It leaves him panting and shaking the fog clogging his mind. He must be more exhausted than he thought if this short fight drained almost all of his energy.

“Get down, Felix!”

Felix doesn’t question the order and flattens himself on the ground just as he hears bullets flying past him while Sylvain rushes to stand over him, firing back. There are cries and screams and the sound of bodies collapsing—more people remaining in the mansion than they accounted for. No matter, they will all die.

Felix looks up and exchanges his knife for his gun, and takes care of those that are trying to fire in Sylvain’s blind spot. People always think they can shoot them and actually injure them; too bad for them that they still have years to go before pretending to be able to kill them.

Despite the cacophony of gunshots, it’s easy work. Sylvain is right; everything is done quicker when they are teaming up, and it’s no wonder that Dimitri keeps pairing them up. The thought makes Felix warm all over as they get rid of the last guy. They stay still for a few seconds longer, listening for anything that will signal another wave, but silence reigns over them once more. Sylvain lets out a long exhale.

“Well shit, that was unexpected.”

“I didn’t think these guys would be so loyal that they’d try to kill us even when their boss is already dead,” Felix says dryly.

He pushes on his arms and gets up, dusting his clothes even though he’s probably making a bigger mess than it already is. When Sylvain doesn’t say anything, Felix glances at him. Sylvain’s face is unreadable.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The word flies out of Sylvain’s mouth. “It just occurred to me that we’re all the same.”

“Are you comparing us to these weaklings?”

Sylvain smiles. His eyes are glimmering, playfulness and honesty and kindness all blending together. “Are you saying that you wouldn’t fight for your comrades and your boss until the bitter end?”

This is ridiculous. Felix scoffs and walks away, ignoring the way Sylvain chuckles as he catches up to him.

“Sorry, stupid question.”

They’re still walking but that doesn’t stop Sylvain from bending down and pressing a kiss to Felix’s forehead, soft lips leaving a feathery touch. Felix scrunches his nose.

“I’m covered in all kinds of fluids and sweat, that’s fucking disgusting,” he mutters.

“My mouth went on much more disgusting stuff, if it’s any comfort.”

“I don’t know why I’m bothering talking with you.”

“You know exactly why!”

Sylvain slides his hand on Felix’s waist and tucks him against him, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Felix tries to suppress a smile, but Sylvain’s eyes are still watching him and he knows it’s futile to hide.

“Come on, we need to look at your arm,” Sylvain says.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you were limping and that’s why you had trouble killing the target on your own.”

“Ah, busted.”

Felix looks back at Sylvain. He licks his lips, then stands straighter, kissing the corner of Sylvain’s mouth, just as gentle as Sylvain did a moment before. It makes the both of them smile stupidly, feeling like they are frozen in a pocket of time of their own, standing in the middle of a bloodied room. Touching each other like nothing else matters, like they’re strong enough to face anything, as long as they do it together.

This is the world they belong to.

**Author's Note:**

> Then they take care of their injuries, counting the number of scars they have, and wondering how many more they will get.
> 
> / come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


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